The Bungalow
by Snipermander
Summary: Ohmtown's legendary super rocker went on a vacation to escape the hectic world of fame... but it seems he can never escape the world of the undead... NOTE: Rating will soon change to M due to heavy sexual content in next chapter.
1. Gimme Shelter

**Author's Note: **While most of the fiction I write with regards to my favorite movie, Rock & Rule, tend to stay particularly close to the story line of the movie, this is a fanfiction idea that came to me while I was watching some documentaries about supernatural occurrences. I always wondered if people who are lucky enough to be born possessed with Magical powers, like Mok, ever had the ability to interact with the undead world. So anyways, this short story is going to mostly revolve around Mok Swagger, my favorite character ever, and certain popular elements from Asian folklore.

Mok, Rock & Rule (c) Nelvana, blah blah.

Enjoy.

--

Driving down the dirt road from the nearest airport miles back, a steel black limousine with sharp angled wings and ominous dark tinted windows hovered through a long pasture of nothing but wheat and age-old fencing with the occasional bovine-people working along side their less-then-evolved cousins. The rickety old barns and shacks which popped up from time to time in the far-off distances bore humorous resemblance to most (if not all) of the houses you'd see in the outskirts of Ohmtown, Montana. But of course, Mok could never forget the miserable childhood he had to spend in one of those wasteland ports.

But that was a long time ago; now, nearly 30 years and over 20 chart-topping albums later, Mok Swagger (alias: "The Magic Man") is worth over billions of dollars in worldwide currency and quite literally living at the top of his game. And it would explain how he could afford to make it here in Fiji, one of the last remaining "clean spots" of undisturbed nature left in this post-nuclear war dying Earth, and a hot spot for vacationing by the super rich and _super powerful_ such as Mok. And that was just what he was here for: a long awaited vacation, away from the occasional hassles of trying to keep his Empire of Music and Magic alive and strong, fighting off other competing Rockers and of course feeding the endless musical appetites of his army of fans. Not that Mok ever disliked this lifestyle, mind you; he loved being The Magic Man more then anything in the universe… but even the greatest of all rock gods needed a Sabbath.

Turning to a thin, wide-screened computer monitor in front of him to his left side, Mok spoke to it in his handsomely deep, silky voice,

"Computer, how much further until we reach a paved road?"

The endlessly intelligent Computer system, which Mok had hooked up wirelessly into his limousine interior, (mostly for doing business while on travel) also worked well as a GPS unit among other things. The stagnant, simulated voice of a woman replied to its Master:

"_Keep traveling north. Four more miles. You will find a paved road marked "A11". Take that road until you get passed the bridge at the shores."_

"Thank you." Mok spoke as he drew a cigarette from his floral-covered silk vest and lit it with a match. _("Your welcome, Mok." said the computer.)_

After spending a few minutes clouding his brain with calming tobacco, Mok spoke again, this time to his limo driver:

"Toad, turn on the radio. I'd like to keep a track of my… fan base… while I'm gone."

With nothing more then a slight grunt, the huge, hulky guy in the driver's pod reached over and pecked the Radio tuner with his thick, sausage-like finger and tuned the dial for volume before going back to what he was doing. Mok continued to smoke as he listened to the slightly fuzzy radio station AM10, which reported news from all over the lands that were once known as "America"; Mok's pointed, cat-like ears pricked around beside his head as he waited for any developments in the categories of Music, or Entertainment, or World Rulerships.

Mok had his good reasons for this request: for a _Super-Rocker_(or any Rocker for that matter) to remain the king of his territory (music, geological, or otherwise), he would have to keep a sharp ear to the media, on the look out for anyone who should try to challenge the Rocker while he is away, and possibly steal fragments of his fan base and/or his respected place in the musical totem pole. This may not make any sense from a human's perspective (if those creatures still existed now, anyways), but in this new apocalyptic world ruled by animal-humanoid mutants like Mok, the Rock and Roll world was no different from the African savannah: the world itself is now a barren wasteland thanks to The War, and in this wasteland the Rock Stars play out the roll of the lions, ruling their "prides" of fans and groupies as well as guarding their "territories" of recording companies and top media franchises. And just like lions, the Rock Stars themselves held vicious physical and musical fights, often times in front of their fans and women, to see who was worthy enough to carry the electric guitar, let alone make music with it. Only the lions with the greatest gold, platinum and plutonium "manes" (albums) would live on beyond their final fights, and such lions with manes like that were one in a million.

Mok was one such lion. Perhaps he was _the_ lion of them all, seeing as anyone with the guts, balls and audacity to challenge him has been quite rare. But either way, The Magic Man had lived long enough to see other Rockers (even one other Super-Rocker) fall before him due to their own disregard for control and vigilance. Television, computers, radio, newspapers, and the all too important word-of-mouth served such fine purpose as the musician's eyes on the world, and as so, relieved some stress from the artists but not enough for them not to require a vacation from it all.

So therefore, here he was: Mok Swagger off on another one of his many little getaways (he was quite keen to reward himself handsomely), to a land of his sole choice where he could be alone and reflective, though it was not unusual for Mok to be accompanied by a female, either from a whole group of gaggling groupies or just some random girl he kidnapped out of nowhere but produced no resistance to him. They usually never tried resisting, and even those few who did would soon come to their senses under the dark spells of The Voodoo Black Musician Priest. But this time was different; Mok was going at it alone (with the exception of his bodyguard Toad, who no doubt would ditch his Boss eventually to go find some tough street dogs like himself to hustle around the islands with), but if he did happen to find any women around that he deemed worthy enough to be with him, Mok would allow it. Mok didn't mind a little deserved solitude, but he hated being lonely as well.

Eventually, the cow pastures were left behind and soon the black limo was gliding on through one of the local towns that were sparsely located around the lands; the populations of the towns were comfortably low, considering the "Common Class" and their petty crimes were not very welcome among the super-rich vacationers. As he blew smoke from between his full, voluptuous lips, Mok gazed out the tinted windows at the age-old, multi-colored buildings and the passing street life, recounting the many times he's had to unleash his Magic on the like for trespassing on his property to get photos of him (mostly paparazzi scum), it was no skin off his pointed nose. Ignoring the staring villagers (they could only stare at the limo itself, not Mok who was well hidden behind the tinted windows), The Magic Man watched the background colors go by: topless bar… beach store… topless bar… beach store…

Another twenty minutes into the ride, and the limo had made it through the low-grade part of civilization, passed over a long, rusted iron bridge that Mok guessed had to have been there before The War, and were finally met with smooth pavement; the hovercraft of the limo against the flatness had nicer soft sounds, and right away from a gander at the incredible well-built houses that lay hidden behind iron fences and fancy Italian ivy walls that this was a whole different social division.

But as nice as all these homes were, none were quite as extravagant as Mok's; at last, after detouring through a dead end street close to the beaches and down through the hidden forest of beach foliage, Toad parked the black limousine at the pathway entrance leading across several acres of warm grass front yard and up to an amazing castle-like fortress situated with the backdrop of the ocean and open sky.

Stepping gingerly out of his limo, Mok flicked his cigarette onto the pavement as he strolled down the long tiled pathway through the garden thicket to his estate. Approaching his very tall medieval wooden front doors, Mok pricked his wide pointed ears to catch the lovely sound of the ocean waves beating into the shore that made up his backyard; 'tis a lovely sound to a such a hard-working musician. Mok took out a laser-card key and slipped it through a large bulky slot at the side of the door, but being the spoiled rock star that he was, Mok waited for his big husky bodyguard Toad to pull open the heavy doors for him.

Stepping inside, Mok took in the lovely place which he had not seen for a few years: everything still looked the same the last time he was in Fiji, except for the presence of some layers of dust, beach sand, and salt (which Mok's personal convoy of cleaning maids and servants would take care of as soon as they arrived later on); Mok's expensive pointed-heel shoes clomped upon the hardwood flooring of the living room and echoed up to the ceiling as he explored the rest of his vacation house; after making it onto his screened in pool deck with thick floral adornments overlooking the beach, Mok decided he would check out one last thing before he would settle in: the little old bungalow that sat upon the sandy cliff right over the beach and just beyond his pool deck.

For as long as he had the shore-side mansion, Mok could remember seeing that little beach bungalow, looking so forlorn out there with its age-old wood framing and its peeling paint. Although he admitted to himself that he could have done something with it sooner, Mok wanted to keep the tiny space for entertainment purposes, much like the rest of his house (though he could probably never get cameras in the bungalow due to the erosion of salt air). Back in his 30's when Mok first bought this mansion, he had originated for the little bungalow to be a "secret spot" of sorts for he and his many lady friends to just hang out during the nights when they got too drunk/stoned from Mok's concerts to do anything else.

But as Lord Swagger would come to learn from being around the women in Fiji, it was most, if not all, of them were just tourists who had no problems traveling halfway across the world to attend his concerts, but who apparently could not stand being cooped up in some tiny bungalow, even if there was Mok and oral sex involved. Damned spoiled tourists, Mok would always think in the back of his mind, as he would be carrying the bitches up to his rich, air-conditioned and completely sand-free master bedroom. Not that Mok ever gave in because he actually cared about the opinions of his dames; The Magic Man just wanted to get it up and in while he was still the fit stud (and still is).

But now he's returned in his late 40's to rediscover the perfectly nice bungalow that once was; 'twas a shame he never got a good use out of the place, and now thanks to his own ignorance, the place was looking rather worn, ironically. And being the man with such high standard tastes in décor and design as he did, Mok wouldn't stand having his image threatened by a mere eyesore in his backyard.

Deciding to save the small beachfront's fate for later, Mok turned and went back inside the house, closing the very tall glass doors as he did, just as Toad was unloading his Boss's luggage.

It was a couple hours of unloading later (with Toad doing all the real work, of course), and both him and Mok had finally settled into the grand mansion for the next two and a half hours that were left in the day before the evening:

The not-so-gentle giant Toad resided down in the spacious living room on the long, winding couch that surrounded the wide-screened computer monitor which was actually a TV; the tube was broadcasting a bunch of programs on professional street dogfighters (something Toad and his brother Sleazy had always enjoyed in the past before they got their jobs as Mok's bodyguards), but the TV was on mute as Toad was on his blocky walkie-talkie phone with Sleazy, making sure his younger siblings Zip and Cinderella, and also making sure they were taking very good care of Mok's real home back in Ohmtown.

Meanwhile, the king of the house himself was upstairs on the third floor of his Fiji beachfront, reclining quietly on his enormous silk bed within his master bedroom; the long, wide curving screen monitor surrounding the bed and suspended from above by wires and bars; with a nonchalant look upon his face and his large lips slightly puckered as he searched for a good station, Mok took a moment to run his long bony fingers through his sphinx-like silver wig of long beautiful hair. He sighed as he continued to skim through all 40 channels, wishing now that he had asked for the Premium Movie Package. He hated it when this happened.

Mok was bored.

And it was not entirely uncommon for Ohmtown's greatest entertainer to need entertaining himself, but what was incredibly worrisome for the common creature was how The Magic Man choose to solve this little problem; being such a creatively-minded man who sired many innovations in the world of music, Mok could think of the craziest and even most incredibly dangerous ways to entertain himself. Some of these would include:

Terrorizing random people (fans or not) with his disappearing/reappearing stunt,

Terrorizing _entire cities_ by setting off laser-energy spheres and leveling buildings,

Slaughtering members of the paparazzi who got in his way,

Invading bar stage shows,

Or just getting himself shit-faced high/stoned/drunk/whatever and kidnapping random girls.

But this also meant that being the legendary rock star of untouchable nature, Mok could get away with anything… and Mok himself knew it.

So now that he was officially unable to find anything remotely interesting on TV to watch (certainly not any of his popular music videos), Mok hit the mute button, irritatedly threw the remote away, and just sat back, looking at his bedroom ceiling. As he gazed up at all the fancy lighting, electronics, wiring, and iron cover paneling, Mok sighed, wondering what he should do. There wasn't a city anywhere for miles, so he couldn't go on a rampage or even a shopping spree; he didn't come in any of his luxury airships, so he couldn't just fly over to a city to takeover; it was night out, so there was no longer a point to the beach; the only little town close by was full of simple-minded locals, who no doubt would hassle him for autographs if Mok revealed himself; and the only other person in the mansion was Toad, who obviously wanted nothing to do with his Boss after that long-ass car ride all the way over here with Mok being the typical "backseat driver" and complaining constantly about Toad's driving.

Still laying out on is bed, Mok looked down himself at what he was still wearing: a velvet maroon vest, a long sleeve white undershirt with fancy lacing down the chest and cuffs, long tight-fitting dress pants that were a darker shade of maroon, a gold chain necklace, and black suede shoes with high heels and pointed toes.

Seeing that he was in clothes more designed for the city high life rather then where he was now, Mok decided then and there that he was going to change clothes and just go out to one of the topless bars in town; he decided to go dressed like the locals in order to blend in and avoid creating too much of a frenzy with him being there. And while he was out, Mok was also going to torment some of the local drug dealers in the area into giving him some dope, as he was out of his crack and cannabis.

So Mok rolled off his large bed and strolled over to one of his large suitcases marked with his world famous (and infamous) black-striped Goat's Head Insignia, opened it up and began tossing everything out of it and all over his room in his search for something to wear.

_This will serve that "dumb waiter" of mine to slack off on his chores around __**my**__ houses…_ Mok thought grumpily to himself of Toad as he pulled out a pair of faded knee-length jean shorts, a thin Hawaiian-print button up shirt, a sea shell necklace, a nose ring, and a pair of sleek sunglasses. Mok also rummaged through a very special case full of some of his expensive wigs from home and chose the one with long, brown wavy hair.

After changing in his large upstairs bathroom (which had just been renovated with a giant hot tub), Mok looked himself over and was surprised to see how young he now looked; the faded jean shorts that looked a bit baggy over Mok's long muscular legs were none-of-the-less very comfy and definitely something pretty much everyone he's seen today has been wearing, and the Hawaiian T-shirt he had on was only held shut by one button, thus still allowing a show of Mok's muscular chest and handsome rows of abs (_Why cover up something others could only wish they could have?_ Mok thought proudly to himself.) And last, Mok ran his long, clawed fingers through his head of now wavy, brown (albeit fake) hair that fell to his open chest and framing his seashell necklace. Mok gave himself a quick once-over, smiled admiringly at himself (as he always did), and quickly got on his way out, slipping into a pair of brown open-toe sandals that Toad had managed to remember to leave by the sliding-glass door to the pool deck.

Meanwhile, Toad was still over in the living room jabbering on the phone with his brother Sleazy over the latest runner's up for the Dog-Fighters Championship in Russia; he never did catch his Boss leaving the house. But then again, why the hell should he care what the eccentric super-rocker did with his life?

---

**A.N: **Chapter 2 coming soon.


	2. Tumbling Dice

It was about a thirty-minute walk down the sidewalks of the high-class 'hood and down the street near the shore until he reached one of the small towns. And being from a small town himself, Mok always found comfort in the slow-motion attitude and way of life of the rural kind; it was a very uncommon perception of a legendary rock star, but perhaps that was just evidence of Mok's natural uniqueness among all other rockers. So far, The Magic Man's change of guise was working well for him, as he was able to walk comfortably amongst the common Fijians down the dirty streets without any hassle; eventually after some strolling, he came across a bar that looked well enough on the outside to suit his personal tastes, and he entered.

Inside, the bar was a little run down like most of the town, but not too badly; it was slightly similar to the scumbag Mylar's nightclub back in Ohmtown, except by the wooden walls and hardwood flooring as well as the Western decorations and scratchy ceiling speaker music. The patrons within the bar all looked like beach rats, monkeys, sand foxes, gulls, and iguanas, all with slight tans and even some with small radiation skin burns (most likely evidence of the irregular nuclear weapons tests that sometimes go on close by the islands). As more folks moved in through the door-less opening to the tables, Mok walked over nonchalantly to the long bar and took a seat at a stool; when the bartender eventually made it to him, Mok pulled out his leather wallet from his baggy jean pants and ordered three shots of straight liquor and a bottle of scotch.

The bartender, who looked like a potbelly pig with a nice tan, took the pay and left to get the orders, and Mok turned himself around and took off his sunglasses to do some innocent people watching around the pub, something he wouldn't be able to do easily had he not come in disguise; along with the drunken and chain-smoking men there, Mok was more interested in the lovely ladies, particularly this one broad with a pretty vixen face and sandy-brown fur with a belly of white. The woman was dressed in a very skimpy outfit made up of a thin wet t-shirt and white shorts that barely covered her thighs but were strapped over her waist with a thick leather belt; she was serving drinks to two men in the corner of the bar; because people kept walking by, it was a bit hard for Mok to make out any other details of her…

Just then, there was the sharp sound of a table bell, and the bartender's call, "Order up", could be heard. Mok, calmly turning back around in his stool, was met with a nice set of liquor shots and a tall bottle of one of his favorite types of scotch. Thanking the guy, Mok pinched one of the shot glasses between his long, nimble fingers and, throwing back his head, quickly drank down the whole amount of its contents before setting the empty back down; then he did the same with the other, and then the last third one, each hit of pure alcohol searing his mouth and throat but bringing great pleasure and peace to the rest of his body and mind.

Now starting out his evening with a nice buzz, Mok gazed lazily over his shoulder to return his studies of that pretty little thing serving the drinks… but she was not there.

Slightly baffled, Mok looked around the pub, thinking to himself, _That girl sure left in a hurry… do they pay her just to serve a single table? Hmmmmm… ah, I'm sure she'll be back. I'm sure I'll get another chance…"_ Mok had a smirk on his thick lips as he took up his bottle of scotch, broke the cap off with his long, white teeth alone, and took a few long sips, turning around in his stool and resting up against the bar top coolly as he kept his eyes opened for that foxy broad…

About 20 minutes later, just as his eyelids were really beginning to grow heavy and his mind tipsy with intoxication, Mok's otherwise sharp eyesight finally spotted the woman returning, shadowed by the dull lighting of the place. As Mok watched her from beyond the overshadowing locks of his long brown hair, the woman seemed to be looking for something, or someone, with great intent; her large ears and head were held low and her pointy little nose wiggled with scent searching. Whatever she was searching for, Mok didn't care; he was going to redirect her attention to _him,_ one way or another. Believing that she must be one of the waitresses at the bar, Mok got an idea as he noticed the drink he still had clutched in his large paw; turning his head to the side (with one piercing eye still on her) he quickly guzzled down the rest of the entire bottle of his scotch, then held the bottle up high in the air, indicating that he was a customer who had just run dry.

Sure enough, the rock star's plan worked like a charm: the woman caught sight of Mok lazily waving his empty bottle around while resting his head in his other hand, elbow on the hardwood bar table. The lady's large ears pricked up and her head lifted with great interest, but that was it, no rushing over to appease the customer or anything. Just a stare of great interest.

Mok was miffed: _Dammit, woman, get over here!_

Suddenly, the girl, still with her sight set on Mok, began to advance right towards him; she moved rather swiftly around the tables and people obstacles in her pursuit of him. Mok noticed her strange and sudden eagerness to get to him, and he began to worry: Uh oh. Has she somehow seen through his disguise? Is she the only person in this facility sober enough to spot those famously huge lips of his? Or was all this worry just a conception of Mok's own lack of sobriety?

Mok braced himself (as best as he could while now growing very intoxicated from his sudden intake of booze) for the moment of impact, which was so terribly commonplace to him by these damned rabid fan-girls; even other men strived to embrace The Amazing Magic Man once they recognized him, and they in particular hurt when he is grabbed by them by the arm, leg, or long furred tail. In Ohmtown, these sort of occurrences rarely, if ever, happened, for the Ohmtowners deeply feared and respected their resident super-rocker, who has brought so much needed tourism and revenue to their poor, run-down town in the state that was once called "Montana". But have Lord Swagger get caught in pretty much any other town other then his hometown and forget it: Mok would have to pull off a series of deadly spells just to get on with the Touring.

But when Mok's wandering mind returned himself to the most amount of reality as he could through drunkenness, he was surprised to see the girl come to a calm stop right in front of him, staring up at him sitting in his high stool so cool like, still with that same incredible curiousness. Of course, it was not abnormal for many people to just stare at Mok like he was some sideshow freak; he was a man born of magical powers! But Mok was also a very keen man to spot the difference between frightened curiousness and blank stares of naivety. And this girl showed no sense of fear whatsoever that Mok could pick up on.

Finally, Mok was the first to speak: "… What… took you so long… to get over here?"

Mok tried his best to not slur his words, but the room was spinning faster.

The woman did not speak; she merely looked off to the side, looked at the hardwood flooring, then back at him, and shrugged.

Growing now more irritated with her clear lack of care for service to him, Mok spoke down on her again: "Weeeellllll…? Do you even work here, woman?" Mok puckered his thick lips and tried to look serious, even though he was bracing himself against the long bar table, trying to stop himself from swaying.

Again, the woman said nothing. She just shook her head calmly.

Now Mok was the curious one here.

"Then… why did I… sasses you sssserving drinks… e-earlier…?"

Now the alcohol was really beginning to kick in: not only was his speech slurred, but Mok's lean, muscular body was rocking back and forth precariously on the tall bar stool. The booze did have a good side affect, though: it was making the rock star less aggravated then he normally would be and just more curious of this odd vixen.

The girl looked over her shoulder at the table in the corner of the pub that once seated the two men being served their beer that Mok had definitely seen earlier that evening. But then she just turned back and said nothing, her furry eyebrows raised in such a way to suggest that The Magic Man must be mistaken.

"…_Ansssswer me, woman!"_ Mok ordered, frowning as he was loosing his balance; he clenched at the empty scotch bottle he still held in his paw until the glass suddenly burst apart under Mok's strength. He went down…

****

The next thing he knew, Mok was staring up at the ceiling of the same pub, but soon came to realize he was in an entirely different room in the building; the rock star was laying on the floor, surrounded by high shelves of all kinds of old and outdated supplies, ranging from food spices to protective radioactive suits hanging on rusty hangers from the creaking, dead wooden shelves. As Mok's vision began to return to its normal sharpness, and his handsomely chiseled nose began to wrinkle at the awful sight of all the dust around, he suddenly became aware of someone applying a wet towel to his forehead and gently stroking his bare, muscular chest. Mok gazed slowly over to his side and his eyes met those of the sand fox woman.

And from that point, it was an unofficial staring contest; and with the better lighting of the room and their distances shortened considerably, Mok was finally able to put forth better study of this female specimen he has found: she was indeed a vixen, with sandy-brown fur that was short enough to not be very noticeable, rather large ears with white fur growing out from inside, and long pointy face that was more pretty and elegant then anything else; her eyes were also interesting, as they were large dark brown irises that were set behind sleek Asian slits; and as Mok's own piercing irises wandered down the rest of her body, the rock star could already feel his crank being turned by her beautiful but fit physique (not that Mok was ever that picky about his many concubines).

Feeling his eyelids slipping and still heavy from the alcohol that still lingered in his bloodstream, Mok took a small breath and sighed as his eyes made their way back up to the woman's face, and when they settled on hers again, he gave a little, _"…Hmmm…", _like it was nothing.

Finally, after all this time, the woman spoke: "Are you alright, Sir?"

_That accent. So she's Asian. Good. I haven't been with an Asian woman in quite a while… _Mok thought to himself.

Mok's thick, prized lips curled into that cheeky little smirk which went so well with his personality, and he answered, "Why yes. Yes I am, thank you."

"Are you sure?" The woman asked.

"Yes." Said Mok calmly. "Don't worry, I've had bigger falls."

The woman sighed and then she laughed. And when she laughed, Mok started to chuckle deeply. They both laughed, hell it wasn't that bad.

And it was kind of true: Mok had taken much worse spills in times of outside drunken behavior, and he's even been in more awkward situations when meeting women, but that was mostly back when he was just a damn kid.

The woman then wrapped her arm behind Mok and helped him to sit up; as he long locks of brown hair fell around his face, Mok rested it against the nape of the woman's warm neck; he took in her scent as his instincts told him too, and he enjoyed it, not caring much if the woman disagreed with his behavior or not. And surprisingly to Mok, she apparently didn't, for she wrapped her other arm around the man whom she was not at all aware was a rock star (let alone perhaps the most powerful and famous one at that). The girl then rested her head on Mok's wig of soft hair. Mok was slightly intrigued by this, but otherwise he was uninterested, as it was no different then how most women acted around him and his Magic…

After a moment or two of this unexpected but pleasurable embrace, Mok's deep slightly raspy voice asked her, "Forgive me, dear, but I never caught your name."

"Oh, my name is Kayoni Montego-Ken. But you can call me 'Kay' if you wish, Sir." The girl said kindly in her slightly broken English.

Mok lifted his head from her chest and looked right into her, speaking in lovely poetic tone,

"Ah, but just as a rose by any name smells just as sweet, you by any of the two makes for no difference in your beauty, my dear."

It took a few moments for her to get it, but at these words, the foxy woman had no other option but to profusely blush and giggle with excited admiration of this odd man, especially with Mok's piercing eyes looking right into hers.

And then he added: "Oh by the way, 'Kay', you do not need to call me 'Sir'. My name is _mmmm_**Mok**… thank a lot." As usual, Mok found himself practically singing glory to his own name, and pride was just a drug.

"_Mok_, is it? … I have heard of you." Kayoni smiled, her interest in this man growing bigger with every minute, though it was hard to tell from her rather stoic nature.

"And I have heard _that_ one before." Mok ended with a laugh as he began to struggle to his feet, groaning as his head was still spinning around; it was never easy for Mok Swagger to stand back up on those long, nimble legs of his, not to mention when drunk.

Kay immediately got up herself to help the much taller man as he staggered to his feet; Mok could feel the girl becoming slightly intimated by his height (her head barely reached the top of his chest), but other then that, "Kay" was quite comfortable with walking him out of the narrow back storage area of the pub. Several bar employees had to squeeze their way past them (luckily, they also failed to see past Mok's clothing and thick wig) until Mok was led to a flimsy back door held closed by a stack of books and a rusty dog's choke chain around the knob.

Kay attempted to open the door herself, but struggled to do so while trying to keep the drunken Mok from falling over himself; it felt like a whole friggin hour to Mok as his irritation started to grow right back:

"_Can't you get the damnnnn thing to opennnn?"_ He grumbled, stumbling back and forth.

"I'm trying as best I can, Mr. Mok, honest." Kayoni spoke, her broken Asian accent slightly pleading with him as she just could not undo the rusted lock that was set into the plywood siding of the flimsy door.

Eventually, Mok was tired of waiting. He wrapped his long strong arms around the girl's neck as a brace as he dizzily said to her, _"Nnnnnow you ssssstand ssssstill… I'll llll-get this, mmmmmy dear."_

"No really, you don't have to, Mok. I can do- "

But before she could even finish her sentence, Mok had targeted the door, pulled back one long, muscular leg, and…

_BASH!_

… Kicked the door open, right off its hinges; it tumbled through the cold night air and landed in the middle of a dirt street where people scuttled to get out of its way, but after observing that it was not a grenade, they went back to their nightly rituals.

With laughter escaping through his large lips, Mok looked down to see the vixen so stunned at such behavior that she was speechless as she stared from the destroyed door in the road right up to this crazed man who now had a hold on her. Mok got his cheeky smirk back as he boasted, _"If you think thatssss impressive, you mmmmshould see my Magic acts! Come! Let us go to my humble abode…_ mmmmy dear."

And with that, Mok grasped Kay around her volumtous hips and hoisted her up over his should without breaking a sweat; Mok was slightly surprised to see her not struggling. Mok's had a few women fight back pretty viciously when he's captured them as his little concubines, but most of the time they calm right down once they remember the great rock star who has chosen them for his prestigious harem. But as Mok proceeded to carry the fox girl with him out of the back of the bar and down the dark streets towards his house, Mok felt an innocent calm from her; it was almost as though she had predicted this would happen or something. But once again, nothing unusual about predicting when the Magic Man was in the mood for a little innocent kidnapping.

As Mok carried her though the streets, the roaring of the ocean and the songs of the wind in his ears, he wasn't getting any more sober, so he began to sing in a crazy attempt to synch himself with the wind and the water. Mok's gait was rather gangly, but at least he was strong enough to keep from falling over and taking Kay with him. Speaking of which:

"Ssssay Key, how do you like my sssinging?" Mok asked in a sing-song tone that he knew made all the girls laugh.

Kay was no exception: "Hee-hee, I love your singling, it's beautiful. You are lucky to be so talented, Mok." It was perhaps the first time since they met that Kay's shown this much emotion.

"Ah, but singing isn't my _only_ talent," Mok gleamed as he lifted Kay off his shoulder and held her to his chest, with her legs wrapped around Mok's lean waist. "You're forgetting about my Magic…"

"_Hay you! Get over here!" _A voice suddenly ordered out of the thick collection of palm trees and mangrooves, and there was a sound of paws traveling right at them from behind.

It took the inebriated Mok a few seconds to realize someone else other then Kay was addressing him. With his pointed, cat-like ears pricked forward, he turned himself around to see who was coming at him. Imagine how high his long, thin eyebrows went when he saw about five dark-clothed and raddy looking thugs coming out of the dark woods at him, each holding what looked like small daggers. But Mok's surprise was very short lived. Throughout his life as a citizen of the not-always-friendly-streets of Ohmtown, Mok's had more then his fair share of the common thief packs. And, even in a state of drunkenness, The Magic Man knew exactly how to deal with them…

"_Ggggentlemen! Why in such a rush to see me?"_


	3. In Another Land

Suddenly, like a ninja in the dark, Mok shot out a hand, capturing the first thug by the throat and gripping his other large hand around the other's arm, twisting it so painfully that the raggedy local dropped something from his hand into the beach sand. The second the object [which turned out to be a pocket knife] hit the floor, Mok yanked his throat-gripping hand back away with what seemed like little effort; this resulted in a wet, tearing sound and the sight of crimson spewing from the would-be-thief's neck before he was dropped to the floor. Cupping his own hands around his irreversibly damaged vital area, the thug rolled around upon the sandy ground, right at the feet of the chuckling musician, uttering such awful sputtering and gurgling that one from afar could only assume the Magic Man had enchanted him with a foul spirit, just as he has commonly made such a sport of.

It all happened so fast that neither of the other thugs could fully grasp what had just happened; they each stood there, blindly staring at their assumed gang leader, who lay upon the dirt floor dying at the feet of a tall disguised man whom they never would have guessed would be the closest living thing to the very Spawn of Satan. One of the men even began to weep, calling out the name of his fallen comrade, though his cheap words were nothing more then cheap band-aids for the situation; whatever the guy's name was, it flew right over Mok's drunken head as he finally looked up from the blood shed he left and over to where the rest of the potential thieves still stood, anchored to their spots by some kind of wicked force which exuded from the Super-Rocker.

Just then, with the roar of the ocean as his cheering crowds and the howling wind as his backup singer, Mok threw back his head and emitted a deep-throated laugh which eventually evolved into a higher pitched shrieking cackle into the evening air, just as the sun finally died behind the horizon beyond Mok's lean, shadowy figure. With the joys of a good thrill and a kill now free flowing in his cold blood, Mok looked to his opposite side, where he was surprised to see the young vixen gal still standing in the same spot where he had left her. Studying her face, Mok felt no immediate fearful or panicky energy surging from her, as he usually felt from the many women whom have been witnesses to the occasional loss of life caused by the Voodoo Black Musician Priest; instead, Mok could only feel the slight cold chills traveling through the young woman's body, mixed with a bit curiousness and high admiration. All these feelings were certainly not expected of her by Mok or anyone for that matter, but this was not the first time Mok had found ladies who you could say were cool with his actions.

"… Hurr, hurr, hurr…" Mok gave a funny laugh before he spoke, "… Wazz'matterrr, honey? Mmmrrryyyou don't miiiinnnnd that I take caaaarrrreeee ov'thiiiissss, m'do yoooouuuu?"

Mok's words seemed to get more and more slurred as the minutes passed by; the rushed intake of alcohol from earlier was really beginning to drag him down, his tall lean body swaying back and forth and his long, lion-like tail began to drag to ground.

But Kay seemed none-the-wiser of this… or of anything for that matter. None of this seemed relevant to her; she replied to Mok with the innocence of a creature devoid of sentience:

"Why no, Mr. Mok. Not at all. Go right ahead."

Mok smiled, his thick lips giving off a slight glisten in the moonlight, and his dark eyes overshadowed by his thick womanly eyelashes.

Over on the other side, two of the men looked at each other, terrified and confused; one asked the other just as Mok turned to look back at them:

"Who in the hell iz' dat' guy talkin' to?"

"I don't know, man! Fucker's gotta' be insane of something!"

They both looked back with growing fear as Mok spoke once more to them,

"Mmmm'well, gentlemennnn, it sssseeeemmmmssss m'you all have just caussssed my sweet, sweet girl and I a bit offff trouble… mmmm'it would alsssso sssseeeemmmm that none of you rememberrrrr who I ammmm. Ssssoooo with that in mmmmind, I willll care to ssssparrrre a ssssmidget of mmmmy timmmmeeee to remind you…"

Then to the horror of the remaining young criminals, Mok held out a long muscular arm and out from the middle of his palm there was a sudden burst of blinding neon blue light that minimized into what appeared to be a kind of "scepter", about two feet long and half an inch thick, and made of pure dark Magik energy. Bringing the strange neon glowing thing to his side like a dagger, Mok began to slowly advance towards the men, who were surprisingly still trying to hold their own like the fools they were, even though they were clearly beginning to cower back. Pulling out their own weapons of choice (no guns, just pocket knives and letter-openers), the young dirty gangsters had no time to react when the next of them was suddenly grabbed out of no where by Mok's quick hand and stabbed in the ribcage with the glowing appendage; blood spurted everywhere from the burned hole in the unfortunate man's body as he was quickly discarded by Mok onto the floor like a piece of trash.

"**My…" **

Left in the same wake as the first guy to go down by The Magic Man's hand, he contorted and then simply fell still in his own crimson mess; Mok gave a laugh of drunkenness as he swaggered towards the next guy, who had the nerve to actually rush at Mok with his pocket knife out to the ready. But Mok need only dart out of the way just in time to both avoid the guy's knife and also cause the stupid thug to run right into his energy rod, gutting him right in the heart. With this kill, Mok uttered the second word:

"… **Name…"**

He moved on to the second to the last guy, who screamed like a banshee as he dropped his weapon and tried to bail, but was grabbed by a quick-footed Mok and had his throat slit open with such violent display.

"… **Is…"**

And after calmly dropping that guy to the floor like litter, Mok closed in on the final man, who dropped his weapon and fell to his knees at the sight of having his comrades killed right before his eyes; he begged the musician for his life, but there was no mercy to ever be found in Mok's soulless eyes which were glowing a striking white light. He dispatched the final man with a simple slitting of the throat.

"… **MOK!"**

A few minutes of reveling in his massacre took place before turned his head after chuckling a bit to see the young vixen woman he had playfully kidnapped still standing in her exact same spot; there was a long line of dead bodies and a river of blood which separated the two of them, but Mok could see and feel no fear from the girl, only mild surprise and even a hint of admiration. Throughout his whole life, the only woman who could ever calmly stand Mok's sudden fits of violence towards other living beings was his lifelong best friend, Gina, whom now worked beside him as one of Mok's many consorts and henchmen to keep much of the population of the Western world under his Magical control.

Mok waited a moment or two to test Kay's potential "girly-freak-out" reaction time, but it never came and she never did. So Mok spoke, still with slurring words,

"Mmmm… dear, m'your taking this so well… most ladies would have run for the hillssss by now… I must have ffffound a good faithful girl in you…"

Had Mok not been so drunk, his normally hawk-like eyes would have noticed Kay's soft Asian ones eyeing the saber of Magic energy still gripped in Mok's now bloodied paw. When Mok mentally disintegrated the glowing energy bar and absorbed its Magical content back into his body, Kay's eye switched from his hand to his eyes, with her large fox ears up to his attention; Mok walked forward, casually stepping over each dead carcass until he stopped about a foot away from the younger woman.

It was a rather awkward moment of silence as the two of them stood there, staring at one another as if neither was sure what to say to the other after such a crazy event: Kay looked Mok up and down, taking in the musician's blood covered paws and feet, his blood-stained unbutton shirt and blood-spattered bare chest and abs; Mok, still concerned about whether he had just lost himself a hot date due to his very bad temper and lack of self control, but still too drunk to stay focused on either problem, so he just simply stared back at her like his cat-instincts told him to until the other party reacted first. And eventually Kay did, in the most unusual way…

Kay smiled up at Mok like a little child that's found a parent, and threw her arms around Mok's lean waist, hugging him and snuggling her cheek into his warm muscular chest. She was even chuckling to herself a little.

Mok was quite surprised by this, but never showed it and quickly just assumed he was in the presence of a woman who has probably witnessed just as much gruesome violence in her life as he did living in the impoverished streets of run-down Ohmtown all his life. Not to mention his pal Gina's rough life in Nuke York of all places.

Mok hesitated to embrace her back at first, but relented the second his sharp rodent nose caught her sweet scent… or when his large, pointed cat ears heard her sweet chuckling… or her warmth against his warmth…

Mok wrapped his limber but muscular arms around her, and rested his chin on her forehead; Mok's wig of long, flowing brown hair fell around his head and around the girl's head as well, which she never minded; the two of them stood there, alone on the beach, the wind softly dancing around them, the ocean singing to them its eternal song… lost in each other's embraces, amongst all the bloody massacre that lay before them… like two serial killers who were about to take their final bows…


End file.
